September 11th, 2001
Sep. 11th, 2011 05:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spongetasticIt was a quiet Tuesday morning. He arrived at five A.M. to begin his shift, bidding those who’d worked the graveyard a good night as they passed. As a first-year student he was only qualified to do so much, but he’d been working in the hospital since he turned eighteen so the resident doctors were comfortable allowing him to do small tasks like changing IVs or dressing bandages.
By eight o’clock most workers were on their third cup of coffee. Peter went on his rounds, greeting patients and helping them if he could. He kept glancing at his watch so he wouldn’t be late for his first class. 8:45 A.M.
“Oh, my god!” The nurse at the front desk jumped to her feet, an expression of shock wide on her face. Without another word she turned on the television behind her. Others nearby paused to see what she was doing. Peter gaped at the screen for a few seconds, and then he was on his cell phone making calls.
“Nathan? Are you okay? Turn on the television, it looks like one of the Twin Towers was just attacked. There’s smoke everywhere. I’ll call you back when I can.” He hung up in time to see the rest of the hospital staff preparing for the injuries that were sure to come. Ambulances were already being sent out.
The hospital was at a stand-still. The entire city was probably at a stand-still. Everyone with a television was watching, and those on the road probably stopped where they were to watch the smoke billow. A second plane came even as they watched and went headlong into the South Tower. There were gasps and even a scream from the nurses.
That was when Peter went outside. Other New Yorkers had stopped on the streets and were now standing transfixed with their eyes on the towers. Sirens wailed as responders tried to get close enough. Peter wanted so badly to rush out and join them, but what could he do?
That was the thought on so many minds that day: what can we do? There was such a sense of hopelessness in the air, of stunned disbelief, of confusion and fear and sorrow. Peter could feel it all around him and inside him. Yet there he stood with no power to help.
Later that evening Peter went to a special night service at a local church. It was naturally packed to the walls with people. Peter made his way to the front so he could light a candle. The flames danced in the darkness. Peter took in a deep breath and started to pray.
Today I was helpless. I don’t want to be helpless anymore. I want to be powerful. I want… to be extraordinary. If you do this for me I promise I’ll use my power to make the world a better place. Please make me a hero.
“Hero” was a word that would be thrown around a lot in the days and weeks to come, but Peter was sure God knew what he meant.
By eight o’clock most workers were on their third cup of coffee. Peter went on his rounds, greeting patients and helping them if he could. He kept glancing at his watch so he wouldn’t be late for his first class. 8:45 A.M.
“Oh, my god!” The nurse at the front desk jumped to her feet, an expression of shock wide on her face. Without another word she turned on the television behind her. Others nearby paused to see what she was doing. Peter gaped at the screen for a few seconds, and then he was on his cell phone making calls.
“Nathan? Are you okay? Turn on the television, it looks like one of the Twin Towers was just attacked. There’s smoke everywhere. I’ll call you back when I can.” He hung up in time to see the rest of the hospital staff preparing for the injuries that were sure to come. Ambulances were already being sent out.
The hospital was at a stand-still. The entire city was probably at a stand-still. Everyone with a television was watching, and those on the road probably stopped where they were to watch the smoke billow. A second plane came even as they watched and went headlong into the South Tower. There were gasps and even a scream from the nurses.
That was when Peter went outside. Other New Yorkers had stopped on the streets and were now standing transfixed with their eyes on the towers. Sirens wailed as responders tried to get close enough. Peter wanted so badly to rush out and join them, but what could he do?
That was the thought on so many minds that day: what can we do? There was such a sense of hopelessness in the air, of stunned disbelief, of confusion and fear and sorrow. Peter could feel it all around him and inside him. Yet there he stood with no power to help.
Later that evening Peter went to a special night service at a local church. It was naturally packed to the walls with people. Peter made his way to the front so he could light a candle. The flames danced in the darkness. Peter took in a deep breath and started to pray.
Today I was helpless. I don’t want to be helpless anymore. I want to be powerful. I want… to be extraordinary. If you do this for me I promise I’ll use my power to make the world a better place. Please make me a hero.
“Hero” was a word that would be thrown around a lot in the days and weeks to come, but Peter was sure God knew what he meant.